


A Burden Shared is a Weight Lifted; or, Macarons and Midnight Meetings

by Honyasbookshelf



Series: From Paris, With Love [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Identity Reveal, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27070294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honyasbookshelf/pseuds/Honyasbookshelf
Summary: "Marinette sneaked into the kitchen, made a thermos of cocoa, transformed into Ladybug, and yo-yoed off her balcony into the Paris night. She wasn't meeting Chat Noir or going patrolling or anything. Just. She needed to think, and the Eiffel Tower was the best place in the city for that."Marinette and Jim Barnes run into each other on the Eiffel Tower one night. This isn't the first time they've met.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug (background), James "Bucky" Barnes & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers (background)
Series: From Paris, With Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074515
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	1. Barnes

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline note: On the Captain America side, this occurs after TWS. I've always envisioned Bucky taking some time to hole up and hide, to figure himself out again before making contact with anyone. This happens during that time. Also of note, can be read as Bucky/Steve friendship or slash; totally up to you.
> 
> On the MLB side, it's relatively early in the timeline. Chat Noir is nuts over Ladybug. Marinette's all googly-eyed over Adrien, but beginning to see him as a friend. Big point is, it's before complications like Luka and Kagami entered the picture. Not that I don't love them, but with the whole love-square mess, we don't need more complications; we need resolutions.
> 
> So with that, have a couple of resolutions that I needed myself.

A small bell jingled cheerily over the door as he stepped into the _boulangerie_ , the incredible smells of bread and pastries washing over him in a rush. It was a charming little shop—family-owned, in a nice part of Paris.

Barnes knew he couldn't stay in any one place for long; the risk of either HYDRA or Steve tracking him down was too great. He wasn't ready to deal with either side of his past yet. He needed some time to regroup, to process his newly regained memories (and what horrors some of them were!), to figure out who exactly Barnes even _was_ at this point. Paris was . . . not safe, precisely, but it was big enough for him to lose himself in the crowd for a while, especially with the skills he'd picked up under HYDRA control. _To think I'd ever be grateful for anything from that experience,_ he thought with a shudder. He'd rented a small flat under a fake name for the time being.

“ _Bonjour_ , can I help you, _monsieur_?” a friendly voice cut through his introspection. He looked up to see a teenage girl with blue-black pigtails, a pink polka-dot sundress, and a warm smile standing behind the counter. A moment's observation revealed eyes that seemed counter to her general demeanor—friendly enough, yet alert, observing him even as he observed her. _Soldier's eyes_ , the thought flashed through his mind, stirring emotions he couldn't quite place.

Barnes touched the sleeve of the henley he wore with his flesh hand. (The other was covered with a glove, despite the odd glances wearing a glove in August got him.) He found that the texture of the fabric helped to ground him, something desperately needed as his abused brain struggled to piece itself back together. He pulled himself together enough to answer.

“ _Bonjour, mademoiselle_. A couple of baguettes, please. And . . . what would you recommend for sweets?” he asked.

“ _Oui_ ,” she replied with a grin as she pondered his question. “The macarons are my personal favorite. I could get you a variety pack if you aren't sure which flavor you want?” she offered.

“ _S'il vous plaît,_ ” Barnes answered, taking in the thoughtful expression that overtook her face as she pondered which macarons would be best.

“The chocolate ones are my favorites, but Adrien likes the passion fruit ones.” The thoughtful expression turned dreamy at that thought, Barnes noted. “Oh, and Alya's all about the raspberry ones. And maybe almond, lemon, and caramel? Does that sound all right?” she asked with a warm smile.

“Great, yeah,” he replied, waiting quietly as she packaged his order. As he was waiting, he noticed a group of three teenagers walk comfortably into the shop and wait patiently to the side, chatting among themselves. The girl behind the counter gave them a quick wave, blushing when her eyes met those of the blond in the group.

“Here you are, _monsieur_ ,” she said as she handed Barnes his purchase.

“Jim,” Barnes said, surprising himself by giving her his real name. She was nice, okay, and some real human interaction was a pleasant change.

“Jim, then,” she said with real warmth. “I'm Marinette. My parents own the shop. I hope you enjoy and come back soon.”

Barnes gathered his purchases and left, meeting the eyes of the blond kid as he passed. Only his extensive training was enough to keep his surprised reaction from showing. More soldier eyes. What?

* * * * *

It wasn't long before those kids' solider eyes made sense, to Barnes' distress. He had only been in Paris a few days before an akuma attack occurred. Seriously, how was it that the city kept this sort of occurrence quiet? Or was it just that it was so bizarre that the rest of the world couldn't believe it? Whatever the case, in the city itself, akuma attacks were a baffling (concerning) combination of big news and utter mundanity. People worried about it if it got close enough to affect them personally, but nearly everyone had an unshakeable trust that Ladybug and Chat Noir would save them.

What Barnes couldn't understand is how those two kids maintained their secret identities for so long. Maybe it was some kind of magic that just didn't work right on him because his brain had been so messed up already? Whatever the case, it was obvious to him that Marinette and her blond friend were Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Knowing this did bad things for his heart. He found himself unerringly drawn to sites of akuma attacks, watching nervously from the sidelines to be sure the two were all right. Part of him wanted desperately to jump in and help, but he knew that would only make the situation worse. For one thing, he was in hiding, and the last thing those two kids needed was HYDRA storming their city looking for him. For another, people tended to get dead when he fought. He didn't want to hurt the innocent. And the more he watched, the clearer it became that the akuma attacking the city were just puppets of some greater evil, not actually evil themselves. He could relate, in a sickening sort of way. (Where was Ladybug when _he_ needed rescue for all those years? Although Stevie kind of filled that role in the helicarrier when he brought Barnes back to himself, breaking through HYDRA's mind control. He was _not_ thinking about _that_ right now, though.) In any case, Barnes wasn't getting involved in the fights unless Ladybug and Chat Noir were in serious danger.

He wasn't sending some anonymous alert of the situation to Stevie and his superhero friends for much the same reason. They'd only make the situation worse. What if _they_ got possessed by one of those dark butterflies and turned into an akuma? God only knows what kind of damage a superhero could do in that sort of situation. Or well, Barnes knew what sort of damage _he_ had done while under mind control; it wasn't pretty. (He still cringed at the memory of his old friend dying at his hands. Could Howard's son ever forgive him? Could he forgive himself?) He supposed he was lucky the butterflies had avoided him—after the first one tried to possess him and was nearly torn apart by the disaster that was his brain.

For now, he would watch from the shadows. And if he ended up stopping by the Dupain-Cheng _boulangerie_ rather frequently after an akuma attack, well, their macarons were delicious, okay? It's not as though he were checking up on Marinette's wellbeing or anything.

An unexpected, but welcome, side-effect of Barnes' worry was a quiet developing friendship, not just with Marinette but with her parents and friends as well. The _boulangerie_ was a warm, welcoming place full of friendly people—something Barnes had been missing in his life for a long time now. He wasn't exactly chatty, and there were huge (massive) chunks of his life that these people could know nothing about, ever. But he found that he could relax a bit, honestly smile even, around them. Sabine even invited (bullied) him to stay for dinner a couple of times. It was nice.

He was getting too attached. He hurt the people he was close to. Howard and Stevie were evidence of that. It was time to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this story was supposed to be a quick drabbled of a conversation on the Eiffel Tower, that's all. It totally ran away from me. This friendship between Marinette and Bucky just brings me so much joy!
> 
> I'll try to get the second (and final) chapter up for you in the next few days. Constructive criticism is welcome; I'm trying to improve.
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!


	2. Marinette

Marinette sneaked into the kitchen, made a thermos of cocoa, transformed into Ladybug, and yo-yoed off her balcony into the Paris night. She wasn't meeting Chat Noir or going patrolling or anything. Just. She needed to think, and the Eiffel Tower was the best place in the city for that. Keeping secrets from Chat Noir, insisting that not knowing each other's identity was safest, was wearing on her. As she grew closer to Adrien, keeping Ladybug secret from him was becoming harder, too. Marinette wasn't sure which secret was worse.

As she reached her favorite perch on the tower (unaccosted, because who would stop Ladybug, even if they did notice her?) she realized there was someone already there. Someone she knew—but not as Ladybug, as Marinette. With practiced composure (because let's be real; she ran into an improbable number of people she knew as a civilian while saving the city as Ladybug), she held back from greeting Jim by name as a friend.

“ _Bonsoir, monsieur_. This is an unusual place to be at this time of night. Is everything all right?” she asked, perching beside him on the tower in a location nearly impossible to get to without some extensive and dangerous climbing (or a magic yo-yo).

“ _Bonsoir_ , Ladybug. I'm fine. Just needed to think, and seeing the city like this puts things into perspective,” Jim replied. Marinette found herself unconvinced that he was fine; his expression was troubled, much as he tried to hide it. She pulled out her thermos of cocoa, offering him some in the lid and drinking directly from the thermos herself.

“ _Merci_ ,” he said, sipping the still-hot beverage with apparent enjoyment. As he should. Marinette knew her sweets. Tikki made sure of that. (Marinette knew he was always achingly cold, even in the summer's heat. He'd confessed once that it felt like he couldn't get the ice out of his bones. Perhaps the heat of the cocoa would help.)

“So what's weighing so heavily on your mind?” she asked him, watching as he leaned his head forward, long hair obscuring his face.

Jim sighed, long and deep. “Marinette,” he said.

She couldn't hold herself back from squeaking at the sound of her civilian name, not when she was Ladybug. Not even her partner knew her true identity.

“Sorry,” he continued, flashing her a wry smile. “I figured it out pretty early on. I don't think anyone else knows, and your secret is safe with me.”

She bit her lip in deep thought for a minute before nodding. She could trust him. She _would_ trust him. After all, what was the world coming to if you couldn't trust Captain America's best friend?

It had taken her a while to figure out his true identity as well, but she had been noticing little tells for some time now. His alertness and soldierly stance. The lonely wistfulness in his eyes whenever the Avengers were mentioned. The uncanny similarity between some of his (heavily edited) stories and those in the _Captain America_ comics she read as a kid.

The news segment last week featuring Steve Rogers pleading with “Bucky” to “come home,” complete with a picture of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, had solidified her suspicions into confirmed fact. Even with all the changes, he was recognizable.

“In any case,” Jim said, “It's time for me to leave Paris. I've been here too long already. I haven't had people around that I cared about for a long time. Being here has been nice. Wonderful. But if I stay, I'll bring danger—something all your powers may not be able to fix.”

“I can't decide though,” he continued. “Should I go find Stevie, like he's asked, or just disappear? I know he's worried. But it may not be better even if I do go to him. I've changed. A lot. He really hasn't. Same hotheaded idiot he always was, sure of what's right, charging into danger with no concern for his own safety.” He had a wistful, fond smile on his face at this last comment. “You remind me a lot of him, actually,” he added.

“You really care about him, don't you,” Marinette said softly, a statement rather than a question. “I saw that news special. He cares a lot about you, too. So what if you've changed? You're a good man, Jim Barnes. If he's half the man he's portrayed as being, he'll see that. Why not trust him enough to give him a chance?”

He blinked once, then shrugged. Clearly, he wasn't _too_ surprised that she had also figured out his identity.

“Maybe I should. I'm a bit concerned about dragging HYDRA to their doorstep, though. But then, they've got enough superheroes and security around. And I can fight if I need to; I _would_ protect Steve. Maybe it would be all right. . . .” Jim trailed off, pondering.

“Speaking of trust,” he added, “I don't mean to pry into your business too much, but you're a friend, Marinette. And I can see how much it hurts you sometimes, not knowing your partner's identity and him not knowing yours. He's a good guy. You should consider talking to him about it. Maybe trust him with your civilian identity and damn the risks. I honestly think it might be worth it.”

Marinette stared at him in shock for a moment, her brain grasping at something just beyond her reach until it suddenly clicked. “Wait, you know who he is, don't you?” she demanded.

Jim smiled enigmatically. “As I said, he's a good guy. You can trust him. If you want to.”

“I'll think about it,” Marinette conceded, Tikki's warnings about protecting their secret identities still ringing in her head. Still, if someone like Jim could just figure it out anyhow. . . .

“Good. And I'll think about talking to Steve,” he replied.

“Will I see you again?” she asked, realizing she was going to miss him. His frequent visits to her parents' _boulangerie_ had led to a quiet friendship in the short time he had been in Paris, and Marinette would be sad to see him leave.

“I don't know,” Jim answered honestly. “I hope so. Maybe someday I can bring that idiot friend of mine to visit. He'd love your macarons. And he'd love to draw the view from up here,” he added, gesturing to the sparkling lights of Paris spread before them.

The two sat together enjoying quiet conversation a while longer and sharing the thermos of cocoa, before going their separate ways like ghosts into the night.

* * * * *

**Five Years Later**

The bell over the door to her parents' _boulangerie_ jingled as a customer walked in. Marinette looked up from the jacket design she'd been struggling over—she was wrapping up her last year of fashion design school, projects were coming due, and she just _could not_ get this particular design to work to her satisfaction. Adrien said it was purrfect (her ridiculous _Chaton_ ) five renditions ago. He should know, growing up as he did. Still.

She sighed, dissatisfied at being pulled away from her work but still determined to do her work helping customers to the best of her ability. The customer-service smile she pasted on froze, her sapphire eyes widening to saucers when she saw who had entered.

“Adrien,” she squeaked at her fiancé, who looked up from his advanced physics textbook to see what was bothering her.

“Oh,” he breathed, standing to join her. The sunshine smile Marinette so loved transformed his face as he welcomed their guests (not customers, not really) in flawless English. Marinette watched for a moment as they exchanged warm greetings, far too tongue-tied and befuddled at the moment to do so herself.

Because of course, _of course_ , it was not only their dear friend James Barnes but also his partner—Captain _freaking_ America—who had come through the door. Five years after Jim had disappeared abruptly from their lives. Still, they had kept up with his exploits some through the news, although he kept out of the spotlight a great deal more than Steve Rogers or even Black Widow.

After a minute to recover from the shock, Marinette gathered herself then rocketed around the counter. She threw herself at Jim in an exuberant hug that rocked him back, nearly tumbling them both into Captain Rogers. After a moment's pause, Jim hugged her back—gently as though she were fragile, for all that she _knew_ he had seen her thrown into buildings in the past. It was nice.

“Jim! We've missed you so much!” she exclaimed in slightly more faltering English, in deference to Captain Rogers. (She knew full well that Jim was fluent not only in French but in several other languages as well.) “You must stay for dinner, both of you. Mama and Papa would be devastated if you didn't, and we've so much to catch up on. It's so good to see that you seem to have worked things out with your partner,” she said, taking in the easy, trusting closeness between Jim and Rogers. Turning her focus to the (poorly disguised in civilian clothes) American superhero standing behind Jim, she added, “Hi, I'm Marinette, by the way, and that's Adrien.”

“Steve. And I know; Bucky's told me a lot about you,” Rogers replied. “It sounds like you helped him out a lot when he was in a bad place. So, thank you.”

Marinette smiled and nodded in response, turning to Jim as he added quietly in French, “I didn't tell him _that_ ; that's your secret to tell or keep as you like. Although it looks like you've entrusted it to _someone_ ,” he added with a surprisingly cheeky smile, his eyes tracing from the engagement ring on her finger to the blond standing close behind her.

At that, Adrien stepped up beside her, a hint of Chat Noir's mischief bleeding into his smile. In English again, he replied, “I am fur-tunate that Milady and I have a purrfect understanding,” he said. (Marinette elbowed him in the ribs for that. He deserved it. The puns were terrible.) He turned slightly to include both Jim and Rogers—Steve—in the invitation. “But really, you should stay, catch up for a while.”

Jim and Steve shared a brief nonverbal conversation before Jim turned, smiling more easily than he had the entire time they'd known him. “We'd love to.”


End file.
